


Liminal

by Nelja-in-English (Nelja)



Series: Porn for every Power [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bloodplay, Creepy, Dream Sex, Episode 74: Fatigue, Episode Related, F/M, Insomnia, POV First Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 09:05:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14912483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelja/pseuds/Nelja-in-English
Summary: Lydia gets another visit from Michael.





	Liminal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winternacht](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winternacht/gifts).



> Thanks to winternacht for the beta. And the title, and the summary, and the idea, and everything, basically.

I toss and turn in my bed. I'm enshrouded in my twisted sheets. They're heavy like lead on my body. The man is here. His curly blonde hair seems so much lighter than my bed wrapping around me.

I ask him if I'm dreaming; he says yes. I ask him if I'm sleeping; he says no. I feel scared, but grateful for the hard truths. He laughs, says he might as well be lying, but it will no longer change anything. I ask him to free me from my bed. "Soon", he says. He stands up. He puts his hand to my face. It feels like sharp stones, like gem shards. His hand reaches my neck, and he starts tearing. He rips the sheet up to my chest, and asks me whether he should continue. I say yes.

He tears off my sheets, then my clothes, then a bit of my skin. I should worry about how naked I am. I should worry about how his fingers dance on my bare skin, drawing blood spirals, bigger than they should be. But the sharp pain makes me feel more awake than I've been in years. The rush of adrenaline gets my blood pumping. I realise that with the tiredness, I forgot what arousal felt like.

I tell him. Of course I tell him, because even if I'm not sleeping, it's a dream. He laughs again and says that these are my own memories at least, and he leans down to kiss me. His lips are soft, sweet, and taste like blood. Or maybe I'm just tasting mine. I close my eyes. I can't remember his face or his body, just his curly hair softly tickling my temples, down to my brain.

My eyes stay closed. This way I can pretend it's normal that I don't really know what his face looks like, nor his body, nor his clothes. I can pretend it's normal that I feel the need, the softness, the pleasure, without even being sure he does more than kissing my face. I can pretend I'm feeling it all with that looks like my body and my mind. I guess I'm afraid. I wish I knew of what. The ecstasy engulfs me, twists me, distorts me, and it should withdraw now, but it only gets weirder and more intense. It gets inside me. More inside than it was before.

He whispers in my ear - I think it's still my ear - asks if I want it to kill me, if I want it to destroy my mind. He asks very politely, as if he was offering me a cup of coffee. I say no. I think I'd rather have coffee, but I don't say it. I think I'd rather have his sharp fingers making me bleed so delightfully again, but I don't say it.

He disappears then, and the excitement, and the delights inside my flesh with him. I feel more exhausted than ever, and I know I won't sleep. Ever again. I wonder if he sleeps. I wonder if he will come back. Maybe I'll take his offer next time.


End file.
